


That's Not My Name

by theglamourfades



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute Kids, F/M, Family Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 12:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15142649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglamourfades/pseuds/theglamourfades
Summary: John attempts to point his son's first words in a certain direction, but things don't go to plan. Modern!AU fluff one-shot.





	That's Not My Name

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly, fluffy little modern!AU piece written for Father's Day. Not my best bit of writing but I got an idea from a bit of a strange place and didn't want to let it go.

For a man who couldn't claim to have the slightest ounce of religious belief, John Bates had been witness to more than his fair share of miracles. It hardly seemed right when he had remembered how the friends of his mother, as devout in faith as she was, had prayer books in every room and different types of rosary beads for every occasion and yet hadn't experienced one divine revelation between them. Perhaps God had the same fundamental point to prove as mere mortals did, or more likely, that his definition of a true miracle was considerably different to most of the population.

A little over ten years ago his status as a confirmed bachelor – albeit one who had been put through the mill by a drawn-out, bitter divorce – came to an unexpected but happy conclusion when he was introduced to Anna May Smith. The assistant and confidant of his best friend's eldest daughter. The owner of the most beautiful smile he'd ever had the good fortune to bear witness to, more than a thousand times over. The love of his life.

Miracle number one.

She hadn't been put off by his numerous faults, like forgetting to take the rubbish out on more occasions that could be claimed reasonably clumsy and buying new books by the dozen when he didn't even have space to store the old ones. Such sins were deemed forgivable enough for her to move in with him, and when he made a pig's ear of a proposal – nothing like the romantic spectacular that she deserved – she'd accepted, jumping into his arms in her fluffy sausage-dog printed pyjamas. His biggest regret in the end hadn't been that he had mumbled the words in bed on a rainy Sunday morning, but that he had caused her to cry. Even happy tears didn't belong in those perfectly blue eyes.

Miracle number two.

Two was enough for a lifetime. They were more than content; they were meant to be, halves of the same whole. Most of their dreams had come true, and that was a lot more than could be said for most people. When darker days drew in upon them, attempting to cast clouds upon their life together, they reminded one another by the merest look or barest touch that the sun would soon return.

To their absolute surprise, defying the odds, another miracle was lying in wait. He still had to pinch himself frequently to be assured that it was real.

They both absolutely adored their baby son, but John doted on him probably more than was really helpful from stopping a dependency from developing. He cherished every moment spent with their boy, and an hour absent from his company seemed as prolonged as an eternity. He simply didn't know how the world had managed to revolve or the sun be convinced to rise each day without the presence of William Oliver Bates within it.

Tonight they had been enjoying a boys' night, a pizza box on the table and a couple of spare bottles on hand for warming. Will had been his pleasant self, happy basking in his father's company and hardly making a fuss when his nappy needed changing, even though Pa didn't do it quite as snugly as Mamma. A few rounds of peek-a-boo left them declared equal winners and, noting the time, John lowered the volume while the sport report played on television, looking forward to the day when they could settle down in front of the football match together – although at the same time he hoped that the years would not pass quite so fast.

Will had been tucked into his cot for less than a minute when he began to cry, his little whimpers swiftly turning to noisy bawling. It always came as something of a shock; he was such a well-behaved baby, and the sound of his son's discomfort pulled harshly upon John's heart strings. He wasted no time in scooping up the small, warm body in his large hands, bobbing Will up and down, up and down in a soothing rhythm as they paced the floor. After a few minutes with no relief, John looked to his trusty companion sitting at the corner of the room and plucked him from the ground, but it seemed that even Mr Elephant wouldn't do the trick tonight.

"I know, I know," he murmured in a low tone while Will continued to grouse, his fair little cheeks turned to a bright shade of red, "I miss Mummy too, but we've got to give her a little break every now and then and muddle on for ourselves, haven't we?"

Will's big blue eyes stared at him while his rosy bottom lip protruded heavily, as if to say " _no, Daddy, we don't_."

It had taken weeks to convince Anna to go out for the evening, she not having spent any more than a couple of hours at a time away from their boy. She had come close to calling Gwen up to make her excuses prior, but John succeeded in hiding her phone from her and promised that they'd cope for one night. She deserved an opportunity to loosen her hair, if she didn't intend to let it down completely, but now John was starting to consider that perhaps he'd been a little premature in hurrying her out of the door and into the taxi that was waiting for her not more than a couple of hours ago.

He stared back at his son with his hazel eyes, full of empathy.

"She'll be back soon, I promise." He held out his little finger, encouraging it gently towards Will, who grasped on with his chubby fist after a few seconds. That was a deal now, so he had to hope that Anna would make her way home sooner rather than later.

With a lightbulb flash going off over his head, John ceased their pacing at the bottom of the hallway, swivelling instead towards the kitchen and the basket of laundry that he hadn't yet got round to loading into the washing machine. He smiled as he fished out one of Anna's favourite t-shirts, holding it to his nostrils and taking a deep inhale of her scent before passing it into Will's grasp.

Though the tears had stopped thanks to Anna's aroma in part conjuring up her being in the room, John decided that there was no harm in going one better. As he settled Will into his lap he pulled a handily-placed book from the side of the sofa. It wasn't a storybook, which made him temporarily disappointed, but he soon figured that perhaps it wasn't the time for any adventures that were too exciting.

Opening it up, he pointed enthusiastically to the picture taking up the first page, running his finger over the round red edge.

" _A is for apple_ ," John pronounced clearly, widening his eyes as his son glanced from the book up to him.

_Hmm, not the most inventive of choices, but he supposed he'd go with it._

Will patted the illustration of the shiny red apple with his palm, making a noise of approval before he allowed his father to turn onto the next page.

" _B is for boat_. Would you like a ride on a boat some day, son?"

Will nodded enthusiastically, rather taken with the lift-up flag on this particular model.

"I'm not sure Mummy would be too happy with us doing that. But we can persuade her. You just use that smile of yours and she'll be putty in our hands."

On cue, he flashed a gummy grin.

C was up next, and it turned out to be for  _cat_. He could see Will wanting one of those too one day in the future, and Anna more readily agreeing – before their son had come along she had been dropping hints about the possibility of homing a scruffy little kitten. John was glad that it hadn't come to that; if there was to be a choice he'd much rather go for Man's best friend.

The start of a smile began to spark on John's lips as he pondered on the next letter. Both he and Anna had been fastidious in marking their son's milestones; he even had a little book charting all of them, if not with photo evidence then with the accompaniment of a date. John was prouder than anything that he had been around to witness Will's first stretch and first smile. Though there was little doubt that their boy was a clever one his first steps were a little while off yet and so was his first word, even if that came a little closer in the expected sequence.

But John thought that a little anticipating could come in useful.

He used one of the cushions from the sofa to swiftly cover up the happy-looking duck on the next page, instead focusing Will's attention on the letter accompanying the illustration.

" _D is for Dada,_ " he said, his grin causing crinkles to spread out from the corners of his eyes. As added incentive he pointed up to himself. "Da-da.  _Da-da_."

Though he returned his father's happy smile Will could only babble, raising his arms over his head.

"Alright, son," John conceded, "Dada's getting a bit ahead of himself here. But I know that you'll keep it safe in that big brain of yours."

They made it all the way to H before Will started to tire properly, his earlier outpouring catching up with him and his little eyelids drooping. Gathering him closer to his chest, John rocked his boy gently until he put him down for the night, switching off the television in favour of reading a book lest he should miss anything over the baby monitor.

The key sounded in the door sooner than he had expected, and the look on his wife's face when she arrived to greet him said it all.

"If I ever think of going out for the night again, please tell me what a stupid idea that is."

John gave an amused version of a frown. "It wasn't that bad, surely?"

"Don't get me wrong, it was nice to see the girls. But next time I think I'll just invite them round here instead." Her shoulders slumped as she moved closer to him, her coat and bag falling upon the sofa. "I just missed him  _so much_."

Seeing the forlorn look written upon her face he couldn't resist wrapping his arms around her, welcoming her as she pillowed her head against his chest.

"Is it too late to go and give him a cuddle?" she asked, looking up at him with that same pouty bottom lip that their boy had inherited. "I know I shouldn't, it'll disturb his routine."

He gave an exaggerated sigh before a smirk lit up his face instead.

"He's been as good as gold for over an hour now. Plus I know I wouldn't want to go to sleep without a cuddle from you."

She gave him a playful tap on the arm and a grateful kiss on the cheek for letting her get away with such a cheeky request.

It wasn't all that long until they were upstairs themselves, in the next room along as they readied themselves for bed. The few hours out of the house and break from her normal routine had worn Anna out, and John was more tired than he cared to admit seeing to their son's every waking need so attentively for the evening. He recounted the events almost second by second at his wife's request, taking her raucous laughter on the chin when he explained about guiding Will through the book of the alphabet.

"John, he's five months old. He won't be saying anything properly for a good while yet."

"You never know," he argued, "some child prodigies have playing an instrument as their thing. Will could be fluent in another language before his second birthday."

Anna shook her head, pulling back the sheets and bracing herself against his body.

"Silly beggar," she muttered sleepily.

As he leant down to leave a kiss upon her lips he smiled.

"Watch what you call me, Mrs Bates," he teased, "because that might be what he chooses to come out with."

* * *

They had agreed before Will came along that at any one time, one of them would always stay at home so that their child would grow up knowing that his parents were constantly around for him – and the same would go for their other children, if they should be so lucky to be blessed again. Anna had been back at work for a couple of months after her maternity leave and they were all finding their feet with the new routine. John was relishing his role as a stay-at-home dad, especially as Will was at such a fascinating age – for him, everything was filled with wonder and delight, and as John watched his boy he couldn't help but catch the same enthusiasm.

It wouldn't be for forever – indeed he held the dream that in a few years' time, maybe even before then, that they might set up the B&B business they had talked about and become masters of their own destiny whilst having more free time to enjoy family life – but for now they would take their turns, and with every new day that dawned he would embrace it more than the last.

Will was every bit his mother's son, rising late in the morning, so breakfast had turned into something more akin to brunch. John had paraded around the kitchen with one tea towel hanging from the waistband of his jeans and another draped over his shoulder, playing both waiter and chef in tandem and presenting the boy with his mushed-up egg and bits of toast. He ate his own meal in something of a fashion, having learned to clean up as he went rather than let the dishes pile up; Will demanded too much of his attention. But there was no doubt that he was happy to let his baby son take over. Inbetween washing and drying he glanced over his shoulder, checking to see that all was still okay, making silly faces at each manoeuvre to Will who giggled happily in his highchair.

"Now then, will M'Lord be requesting a beverage? I'm not sure that we have any Bucks Fizz in stock, but I can offer you a very fine bottle of milk..."

"Muh. Muh, muh."

Will was stretching up, pointing one of his little arms out almost perilously towards the fridge. He was well-strapped in to the chair, so there was no danger of him toppling out.

"I didn't quite catch that, son. Did you have something else in mind?"

John's mischievous smile was quickly swept away, his mouth gaping open when Will took him completely by surprise.

"Mama!"

The plates he was holding nearly came crashing to the floor as Will gave a gummy grin, infinitely pleased with his own achievement. Now that he had started it seemed that he couldn't stop.

"Mama! Mama!"

Shaking out of his stupor, John plucked up the photo of Anna that was held to the fridge by a couple of magnets, bringing it over to an ecstatic Will who was clapping his chubby hands in glee.

"Yes, son, there she is. There's Mama."

He'd been sneaking peeks at one of the baby development books Anna had bought when she hadn't been in their room and felt an inordinate pride that their son had said his first word a month or so before he was due. For all their teasing, he was in little doubt that they had made a very clever child. He also couldn't be disappointed that Will had chosen to say Anna's name before his own; their boy adored his mother and John already knew that once he had started to walk that he would become her shadow. He happened to adore her too, so there was no way he could berate his son for doing the same.

John offered the photo up to Will for a closer look and he jabbed at it with sticky fingers.

"Mama," he squeaked in a tone that caused John's heart to overflow, "Mama!"

 _Oh, just wait until she gets home_. There'd be so many tears that she'd risk flooding the whole of the lower floor.

He crouched down to share the same eye level with his boy, smiling at the image of his wife captured perfectly within the frame and then at their son's rosy-cheeked grin.

"You're such a clever lad," John exclaimed, placing a kiss on a chubby fist. He lay the picture down on the table top of the highchair, following Will's brilliant blue gaze as it looked to where both of his fingers were pointed.

_There was no harm in trying._

"Now, can you say my name?"

His grin was eager, eyes hopeful as his son continued to stare at him.

"D – d..." John began, sounding out the letter in the hope that Will would quickly catch on.

The boy lifted his eyes to the ceiling before looking back in triumph.

"Mama!"

"No, I'm not as pretty as her." He leaned back on his heels slightly, so as to give his son a bit more breathing space. He had no intention of scaring the poor lad. "Try again for me?"

Will gave pause for a moment or two, and John almost forgot to breathe as he got caught up in the anticipation of hearing his precious boy utter his name. But alas, the moment was not yet to be.

"Mama! Mama."

He couldn't stop himself from smiling, unclipping the harness to scoop the warm weight of his son into his arms.

"I know, son," he bobbed his head in agreement, "she's quite the woman, is your Mama."

He gave it another go after he had given Will his bath that night, but once again was met with  _Mama._ One more shot once that evening's bedtime story was over, with the question of whether he would like  _Da-da_  to read it again. From under drooping eyelids, the boy mumbled  _Mama_  before he went to sleep. John didn't mind being called by the wrong name quite so much, only keen that he didn't steal the sacred mantle from his wife.

He was a patient sort, and he could wait a little while longer for his son to give the word.

* * *

Weeks passed, and Will became quite the chatterbox, testing out new syllables on a daily basis. He'd cheerily proclaimed the words  _gaga, baba, 'bock'_  and even  _nap_  – but thus far had failed to utter the one that John so longed to hear. His son loved him more than ever, crawling all about his person and tugging upon fistfuls of his hair, so the lack of a 'Dada' left him well and truly crestfallen. He'd given up on the repetition and reward approaches, and the advice in Anna's book had him stumped, leaving him tempted more than once to head to the library and roam the shelves for alternative editions.

A thought had occurred to him in the midst of one fitful night and had stayed with him like a stone in his gut ever since.  _What if Will was one of those children who called their father by his Christian name?_  The notion that their darling boy would only ever refer to him as 'John' rather than any incarnation of 'Dad' wasn't disastrous enough to break his heart, but it did leave it severely bruised.

Robert had pulled him aside with a weary expression on his face, saying that at least Will hadn't crowned him with a nonsense word, huffing as little Sybbie and George hollered to him with ringing cries of 'Donk!'

They'd spent the day over at Robert and Cora's, lazing in the garden as the barbecue burned and the children delighted in their endless run of games. John spent most of the afternoon admiring his wife in a flowing summer dress, taking special note of the beaming smile that graced her face as she kept watch on Will's playtime with the others. He had an idea that she was getting broody again and the thought caused him to grin too. Will was getting to the age where another Baby Bates seemed like a very good possibility. He fought not to let negativity take hold of him, knowing that they would need to let nature take its course.

Their boy had got so excited that he was lolling his head around an hour before they left, the humidity of the day not helping matters. He dozed all the way home in his car seat and when they arrived back they decided that the best option was to let him nap before he had his supper.

John planted himself on the sofa in the front room, flicking the television on but too preoccupied to take any notice of it. Sybbie was old enough to talk in full sentences, and she punctuated nearly every one with 'Da'. The pride on Tom's face on hearing his daughter was evident for all to see and John envied the younger man the simple, specific joy, as childish as he felt about it.

He heard Anna's tutting down towards him before he pulled his head from where it slumped upon his chin to look at her, standing with her arms lightly folded across her chest.

"Oh, come on. One overtired, cranky baby is enough to deal with, never mind having an overgrown one too."

Her tone was light and teasing, and he replied to her with a lingering look, shifting along the seat to make room.

"I know it'll happen in time," he said with a sigh, not needing to clarify the topic of conversation. "I just hope it's before he turns eighteen."

He pleaded with her to sit down next to him, deeply craving the comfort of her presence close enough to reach and touch, but even he had to admit that his sad-sack expression wasn't the most alluring.

"I wasn't going to give you this until morning," she intoned, a hint of a smile lighting her eyes, "but I don't think I can bear you being like this any longer."

The pun had been unintended on her part but it did rather amuse him when, after a few minutes searching, she presented him with the item out of its box, covered in fluffy brown fur and complete with a spotted bow-tie adorning its neck.

"Thanks love, but I reckon I'm a few years too old for teddies." He managed a smile as she perched next to him, swirling his hand over the soft covering. "And Will's got more than enough as it is."

Anna shook her head, seizing hold of his wrist and guiding it to hold the hand of the medium-sized bear.

"It's a gift from Will," she explained, the smile on her face becoming more eager and curious to him. "Press his paw."

John felt rather ridiculous, especially given the sullen mood that he was still in, but it was evident that Anna wasn't going to leave off until he did so, so he gave the bear's paw a small and tentative squeeze.

The noise that came from the teddy caused his heart to leap within his chest, almost unbelieving of what he was hearing. It was a little muffled, what with the recording device, but he could discern their son's voice with no problems, and the word he was repeating with confidence and glee was unmistakable.

The ache within his chest was so much that he could have burst into tears.

He pressed down on the smooth paw with fervour, finding himself laughing as he listened to Will say 'Dada!' over and over again, repeating it like it had become a new favourite. Anna's squeals of encouragement could be heard in the background of the recording, but Will had hardly needed any coaxing.

"This is..." John began, his own words becoming choked with emotion, "this is one of the best presents I've ever received."

With his other hand he reached out to grasp that of his wife's, raising it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her warm skin. The apples of her cheeks filled with colour, distinct from the light bronzing that the sun had given to her alabaster complexion.

"He said it first when you'd gone on that business trip with Robert. Would you believe that; it was only a few days after he'd spoke at all."

They shared a laugh at the absurdity of it; whether their boy had chosen his moments purposefully, they couldn't possibly tell.

"So the next day I thought I'd better get the evidence on tape, and it was a good job I did. We've created a bloody-minded little boy, John Bates."

John carried on cradling the bear, replaying the recording that emanated from its tummy as though he had been deprived of all sound for years. He thanked Anna again for such thoughtfulness by kissing her on the cheek, then lingeringly catching her lips with his. He felt as though he was floating on air.

Later on he had been the one to insist on settling their son for the night after he had been changed and fed, letting the tinkling music of the melodious night-light flit around the room along with its gentle colours. It had a lovely soothing sound, he admitted, but nothing could rival what was still ringing in his head for sheer sweetness.

He snuggled Will against his chest, dropping a kiss upon the fair crown of his head, before he tucked him safely and serenely into his cot. The colours and shapes passed over his face as John watched awhile, struck with how cherubic his boy looked while he slipped quickly into sleep.

John smiled, giving the teddy bear an approving look before dipping down, nestling it to the foot of the cot where it could keep guard over Will in his absence.

"Good night, my boy. Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite."

He was certain he wasn't dreaming when he heard the little squawk leave his son's lips before he entered his own blissful dreamland, and it took a good while for his heart to stop singing that night.

* * *

His footsteps came down the staircase with a lighter tread than was usual; Saturday had come round again and they were both blessed to be free of commitments, looking forward to a day ahead with their little wonder. John was fairly sure that as young as he was, he would be the one setting the agenda, but he had no qualms about surrendering to his son's whims, and he knew that Anna shared the same opinion.

As he approached the kitchen he heard them both, joy searing to his head before he even heard their conversation.

"No, sweet-pea. That's not my name, and you know it," Anna intoned, small spoon held in one of her hands like a helicopter in mid-flight. "Say  _mama_."

Will gave a shout in reply, sounding on the verge of giggles.

"Dada!" he answered. "Dada, dada, dada."

John couldn't help his grin as he poked his head around the doorframe, his eyebrows raising in a kind of triumph.

"Love," he addressed Anna with a wide smile, "maybe we should get you a teddy bear of your own."


End file.
